Supermen sleep in transit every time—
no guarantees of when we’ll sleep again, or if,
so we tuck chin to flak jacket and light out
for anywhere else. We wake bitter and panicked,
plane dropping too sharply for Stinger missiles, look up,
read the taut, terrible smiles.
by Ann Marie Thornburg
Although poet Mark Doty’s memoir Dog Years was published over a decade ago, it is timeless in its generous goodwill toward canine subjects, and timely for artists and thinkers who are considering animals under the umbrella of Animal Studies, an interdisciplinary academic field that is now coming into its own. (In the coming months I will be posting additional posts about the representation of nonhumans with language, and the intersections of art and science, on this blog.I hope you will stay tuned.)
by Nathan Go
If you’re compiling your list of books to read this summer, below are a few titles by Filipino or Filipino American writers that I heartily recommend. Many of these touch upon the historic relations to Spain and the U.S., and the rather strange amalgam of colonial influences that resulted – as the saying goes, the Philippines spent “three hundred years in the convent and fifty years in Hollywood.”
Although he bore plenty of battle scars, Captain Hook was a good-looking guy, and he treated Mom like a queen. I can see now why she was so into him, but at fourteen, I was mortified by my stepdad, and it wasn’t just the crocodile. He was forced to wear the standard issue postal uniform during the week, but on his days off he dressed in knee-length breeches, stockings, a red frock coat, and a wide-brimmed hat with a plume. His hair was even longer than mine, and it curled into black ringlets. My mom never seemed to notice the things that set her husband apart from other people—she saw only the man who’d rescued her from a lonely, loveless existence.